Dreams
by JustlikeWater
Summary: "These days sleep was an elusive thing. On a typical night he managed a sparse two or three hours before the nightmares kicked in, if he was lucky perhaps four. The worst thing was he couldn't simply dismiss the dreams, as they were actual memories, constantly on loop in his head like some kind of twisted cinema" Draco/Hermione. Mid- war. Complete


**Disclaimer: Yup. Not J.K Rowling, don't own Harry Potter. **

**A/N: Hey guys! So this is my second Dramione fic that I'm posting, and I hope you guys like it! I would definitely appreciate whatever criticism or tips you have to offer! Thank you! **

**Oh and just for a little background on the story; This takes place during the war, at the Burrow. Draco is currently living with the Weasleys, Hermione, Harry, and various Order members that come and go. Also they do not trust him- for obvious reasons- so they've confiscated his wand. Okay that's enough for this author's note; enjoy!**

**...**

_You pull the black hood over your head and, surrounded by midnight, you are nearly invisible. Your steps are furtive and stealthy, yet each stair seems to screech as you climb it- a blaring noise just begging to be noticed. It could very well be imagined, though. Perhaps the sound is amplified to match your guilt; the twisting sour knot ever-present in the pit of your gut._

_You reach the final step and the cold night air hits you like ice water. For a single moment you forget your task, only focusing on letting the crisp feeling circulate in your lungs. Eyes closed, mouth somewhat slackened, even your wand is dipping downwards…_

_"Draco."-  
_…

Draco sat straight up, sweat soaking his sheets and skin. He held his head in his hands until he could breathe again. Though it was the middle of January and he was well aware he could potentially get ill, he swung open the window and let the icy winter air wash over him. Oh, how he missed his broom. He looked out longingly at the star-studded sky. These days sleep was an elusive thing. On a typical night he managed a sparse two or three hours before the nightmares kicked in, if he was lucky perhaps four. The worst thing was he couldn't simply dismiss the dreams, as they were real memories, constantly on loop in his head like some kind of twisted cinema.  
It was the middle of the war and any kind of peace was completely out of the question, for any of them, so they all found different ways to manage. As for Draco? Well, his way was escaping.  
He stuck one leg carefully out the window, praying no one had moved the trashcan he'd put underneath it. Thankfully it remained, so he pulled the rest of his body through and hopped to the ground.

The cold dewy grass kissed his bare feet and the churning winds sprinkled his arms with goose bumps.

He knew he couldn't truly escape his memories but it didn't stop him from trying. Every night he came out here and every night she came out here, and suddenly everything would be okay for a while. However they never met up in the daylight, in fact they hardly even looked at each other most of the time. She was a Mudblood and he was a Malfoy- as she'd said once, "Simply calling you by your name implies more insult than anything I could come up with". And unfortunately it was true- the Malfoy name had long-lost it's former pride and glory. His bastard of a father was still in the ranks with the death eaters, despite his brief stint in Azkaban, and his mother's whereabouts were unknown, though in all honesty he was nearly certain she was dead. The thought made him feel even colder than before and he wished Hermione would hurry up.

_…  
You blink out of your haze in one second, immediately on alert, wand raised. The old headmaster emerges from the shadows like a candle conjured up in the midst of an ink ocean, a beacon, one could say. And yet to you he is the embodiment of your hopelessness. So pure and kind and good- one would have to be truly heartless to kill him. And since you never cease to feel that pumping organ beneath your breastbone, you know you will not be able to either._

_"Draco, why are you here tonight?"  
_…

"Draco, wake up!" He thrashed about for a moment, still caught between consciousness and dreaming, before realizing that it was her. "W-what happened?" He looked around to find himself leaning against the shed, in the dark, wet grass soaking his pants. She helped him off the ground "I don't know! I came out here looking for you and I heard someone yelling, so I came round back and found you sleeping on the ground!' Her eyes were wide "What were you yelling for anyway? You really scared me- I thought something had happened," He swallowed as the last remnants of the nightmare floated around in his head like ghosts. "I- I had a bad dream I guess," He stood up and pointed at his pants. "Er, do you think you could…?" She cast a quick drying spell and sighed wearily, though in truth it wasn't as much of an inconvenience as she played it off to be. She knew not having his wand bugged him, which was why she made a big show of casting spells. Even though they were no longer enemies she still couldn't resist trying to get a rise out of him.

He leaned against the oak tree and gestured upwards with his chin.

"Would you like to go up, now?"

She smiled and wordlessly began to climb the rope ladder. The tree house had been in the Weasley's yard ever since Ron had been born, and when Draco had initially arrived the thing was just about to fall apart. To distract himself and stay busy, he poured all of his efforts into fixing, perfecting, painting, and remodeling it, all by hand.

Once she was at the top she stuck her head out and called "Hurry up, slow poke!" Before sticking out her tongue and disappearing inside the little house. He grinned at her childish gesture and followed suit.

…  
_That hopelessness… it fills you to the brim. His voice is gentle, concerned, and everything else you absolutely cannot stand to hear at the moment. You want him to fight. You don't want him to understand your pain- you want him to mock it. Then maybe you wouldn't feel so bad for what you are about to do, because then you could almost justify it._

_ "I have to do this…" _

_A broken, quivering voice slices into the silence, and you are shocked to find that it is your own.  
…_

Hey, are you okay?" Her Brandy- colored eyes searched him.

"Do you have any Pepper- up on you?" he asked abruptly. She gave him a curious glance. "No, why?"

He clenched and unclenched his hands in anxiety, before reluctantly telling her, "Hermione, you know the dreams I told you about?" She nodded raptly. "Well it's not just when I'm sleeping…I- I get them when I'm awake too," He paused, "They're kind of like flashbacks, but I can't control them." She blinked. "That's why you randomly check out sometimes, right? Then I have to repeat what I just told you and you act really dazed…"

…  
_"Draco, there are other options; you don't have to do this! Come join the order, we can take you and your mother in hiding, and as for Lucius…well his current residence in Azkaban is most likely the safest place for the moment-"  
Fury boils your blood and stinging saltwater blurs your vision. "Don't you get it old man? This isn't the bloody Potters we're talking about! I DON'T have a choice- they'll kill me if I don't do this…and as for the order, do you really believe my parents would come?" You quickly run your sleeve across your face, "Of course they wouldn't! They're bloody loyal-"_

_His deep cerulean eyes bore into your own.  
"But the question is, are YOU, Draco?"  
_…

"Draco! You just did it again," She pressed her palm to his forehead, "No fever…"

He rubbed his eyes and forced himself out of the daze. "Listen, Granger, it's not something that Healer training can help," She ignored him and began checking his pupil dilation, pulse, and heartbeat all while mumbling to herself. "Normal…normal…nothing wrong here…"

He swatted her hands away. "Granger! I'm serious- it's not an illness, okay? It's a side affect." This got her attention. She stopped what she was doing and looked up sharply, "A side affect? From a potion?"

He chewed the inside of his cheek and shook his head. "No, it's from a spell, or a curse I suppose…" Her brow crinkled in thought "Draco, can you just tell me straight, instead of giving each bit of information with five minutes in between?!" Her eyes glowed with exasperation, curiosity, and that lively determined look she got whenever there was something to be fixed.

…  
_The rug seems to be pulled out from under you and for a moment all you can hear is a dull ringing. Am I? You think. No one ever really considered where you stand, so now that the opportunity has finally presented itself you have no clue what to say. "I…" You wand dips lower and nothing seems to exist but your headmaster's question and the thousand answers floating around in your head._  
…

Weariness overtook his features as he reluctantly explained. "Granger, you remember the night Dumbledore- the night he-" Draco closed his eyes and willed away the memories, "The n-night he…"

Damn. The words simply wouldn't come to him. "Died?" Hermione asked softly.

Certain gentleness filled her eyes and he unconsciously relaxed. "Yeah," he breathed. "That night when Snape took me back to the Dark Lord, I was punished. And- and not just with Unforgivables the Order knows about. "He leaned in, shadows filling the hollow of his cheeks and slope of his nose. "There are curses you could never even dream about- ones that freeze you from the inside out, ones that flay you alive," His Gray eyes were oddly empty and it seemed as though he was seeing things she couldn't. "Ones that force you to relive your worst nightmares over and over, every waking moment of every bloody day."

_…  
Suddenly a sharp voice intrudes your thoughts. "Hello, Drakey dear," Your aunt wraps her arms around you, purposely digging her long yellow nails into your shoulder. "What are you waiting for?" Her saccharine baby-voice breaks and suppressed fury fills her black, fathomless eyes. "DO. IT." There is no question to be answered any longer, and your Headmaster seems to realize this as sadness fills his face. But only momentarily. "Hello, Bellatrix. How are you?" he says cordially. Her dark eyes narrow and she releases your arm. "We didn't come here to chat, Old man," The color drains from his face and for once he loses his composure, "We?" He asks weakly. She grins and her jagged teeth catch the light of the moon. "Yes. We" And with that, the other death eaters ramble up the staircase you so carefully tread only moments ago.  
…_

"Draco?" She gently brushed his bangs from his eyes in a soothing, repetitive manner. "Draco, what do you see? What memory does he force you to relive?" Her voice was soft, almost maternal in the sense that it was concerned and somewhat loving. But only somewhat.

"It's always that night, Granger," He readjusted his position, careful to keep her fingers entwined in his hair, and closed his eyes. "Just seeing the most powerful man I'd ever known crumble like a doll was haunting. That event was my undoing." She couldn't help but feel some surprise at Draco's confession. She would have never guessed he had thought so highly of their headmaster, if anything she'd assumed such regards had been reserved for his own father, Lucius. "I may have disliked the old coot, thought him to be mad, and despised his bloody favoritism," he sneered, only to instantly soften, "But he was a kind, gentle man that did not deserve the end he was given. Dead, in seconds, offed by one of his own, simply because I was too much of a bloody, spineless, coward-" Her hands stopped moving and she bent her head to face him. "Draco- enough! It wasn't your fault! You were practically being held at wand point with the threat of Voldemort killing your entire family! What else could you have done?" His lips twisted wryly. "What could I have done? I could have listened to Snape when he offered me a way out. He asked me to join the order two months before that night, Hermione." She stared in shock for a moment. "Why did you say no to Snape?"

"Because at that point I still believed I had a chance to complete my task. Like an idiot I thought I was still fighting for the correct side, that Snape was the bloody fool." He glared at the floor. "I was such a damn idiot, Granger! He even offered to hide me and my mother, complete the task on his own, keep us within the order where we could live comfortably, and remain a double agent for the dark lord- All just so I wouldn't have to follow through. Hell- I could have turned him into the Dark Lord right then, as everything he told me would've been enough to prove treason, and yet he didn't even make me take a vow. Didn't even warn me to stay quiet. That's how much he trusted me," he ran his hands down his face wearily. "And look at what happened. I screamed in his face like a spoiled brat and went along with the task anyway. By the time I came around to realizing I'd made a mistake, it was too late." he chuckled, but it was a dry, hollow sound that made her wince. "Hell, I didn't realize it until that exact moment when I was staring down my wand at the Headmaster himself."

…  
_Among the death eaters is your professor and he dons black robes akin to your own. Sickness rolls in your gut when you realize he is one of them. There is a single instance in which his dark eyes meet your headmaster's and a message is conveyed, though you can't imagine what, nor do you have the time to think about it because suddenly everything is falling to pieces.  
…_

"It's so hard, Hermione," he whispered, fresh tears clinging to his eyelashes, refusing to fall. "I can't stop seeing it- seeing him..."

She wrapped her arms around him tightly, and he squeezed back with desperation.

"It's okay Draco," she said quietly, "You did the right thing in the end, didn't you? You joined us, which is what he would have wanted."

…_  
One simple, pleading last word is uttered by Dumbledore, "Please" And quickly, almost surreally, Snape raises his wand and shouts words that rattle you to your very core. Green light floods the astronomy tower, Bellatrix laughs, and your Headmaster falls._  
…

In the window of the Weasley's tree house you can see two silhouettes, a boy and a girl, entwined in a way that indicates neither will move for a very long while. Perhaps romance waits in the future, but for now their relationship is based only on the sole need of companionship.

In the morning they will retreat back to their rooms, silent, cautious, and mull over events, thoughts, and the residuals of their conversation. They will not say good morning to one another, nor will they speak or even smile, and when their hands accidentally touch during breakfast they will both ignore the pleasant jolt.

At night his dreams will return,  
but so will she.

**A/N: Thanks for reading, guys! Hoped you liked it! Oh, and pretty please review? ANY criticism, tips, or comments in general would be hugely appreciated! Or if you have any suggestions for another story you can PM me! Thanks again! **


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